who? (Trans Wilbur)

twelve | he's giving you soup... threateningly

warnings: shark week (blood warning), self-neglect, eating disorder, over-binding, dysphoria

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Wilbur flinched when he heard his door jangling. Who in the fuck was trying to get into his apartment?

The door opened eventually, so either this fucker had a key or a lockpicking set. Footsteps that only sounded like impending doom approached Wilbur's bed, where he was rolled away from the newcomer.

"No wonder you sounded like shit." Techno put his hands in his pockets, studying the pathetic scene before him.

"Why are you here?" Wilbur hissed.

"Tommy told me to come," Techno said. "He said you don't seem like you're doing so well. He was right."

"Oh, yeah? What hinted to you?" Wilbur sneered.

Techno sighed. "Are you going to get up on your own or do I need to drag your ass to the bathroom?"

"Go away," Wilbur muttered. "I don't need your help."

"You're sitting in a pool of your own blood," Techno pointed out. "Tommy said you were crying all day. Did Dad really say something that bad?"

Wilbur huffed and buried himself in the blankets.

"You can't hide from me."

Techno pulled the comforter off, earning a squawk from the younger twin as he clung to the material. Techno somehow managed to pry Wilbur's grip off of the thick blanket, sending him tumbling back on the bed.

"You prick!" Wilbur shouted after him. "Go back home!"

"No." Techno disappeared with the comforter, then returned with his hands empty. "Now, again, are you getting up on your own, or am I dragging you?"

"You can't make me do shit," Wilbur spat, clinging to the sheets. "Let me rot."

Techno loosened the edge of the stained sheets, then grabbed each like a bundle, Wilbur still inside.

"What the fuck? No, unhand me! Fucker!" Wilbur hissed, trying to kick his way around the sheets, but it wasn't working very well.

"It's your own fault," Techno said indifferently. He started to fill the bathtub with water. "Go bathe."

Wilbur stuck his tongue out, earning a pull to his ear. "He-ey! Stop it!"

"Get in the fucking tub."

"No."

"I will throw your ass in that water. Don't mess with me," Techno threatened. "I don't think you want me to peel your clothes off of you, do you? Get in the tub."

Techno then left the bathroom, taking the red sheets with him. Wilbur slowly took off his darkened clothes, but refused to take off his boxers and binder. Technoblade could threaten him as much as he liked, but Wilbur wasn't taking that shit off. He slipped into the warm water, immediately staining it pink.

When the man himself came back, he let out a sigh. "No, take that off."

"No."

"Wilbur, take off the damn binder." Techno set down the clothes and towel he brought.

"Please don't make me take it off," Wilbur begged. "I can't- I can't do that."

"Your ribs would thank you," Techno said.

"You can threaten me and pull me around however you like, but I'm not taking it off," Wilbur hissed.

"Look, I get it, everything sucks and you feel like shit, but the quicker you actually listen to me, the quicker I can leave you alone," Techno argued. "Now take the binder off or I will hang you from your neighbor's clothesline."